I Wanna Go Home
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Carter wants to go home.  To Abby, of course.  That's right, it's a Carby.  I don't write anything else.


Title: I Wanna Come Home

Rating: a solid PG

Spoilers: up through early season 10, so probably not really spoiling anything for anyone

Disclaimer: dude, if they were mine, this whole storyline would've gone in such a different way

Author's Notes: At the end, as usual, but I should set up the story a little here. It takes place around the time of the episode "Makemba" (think Christmas '03), but the character Kem doesn't exist. She's not a factor at all, so let's not worry about the little home wrecker, k? Good. Enjoy.

* * *

I've been gone so long, I've lost track of the days. I have no idea how long I've been in Africa. It doesn't seem to matter—no matter how long I'm here, it never feels like the place I'm supposed to be.

I miss my old life. I miss working at County, I miss Chicago and its blistering-cold winter, I miss my friends…

I miss Abby.

Abby.

I'm such an ass. I thought leaving would make it all better. I thought if I could just get some distance, all those problems that were tormenting me back in the States would somehow just vanish. As if, in some way, being on another continent means that all the things that were on your plate have just disappeared.

And I'm really an idiot if I thought that I could forget Abby just like that. We have too much history, and she deserves better than what I gave her in the end.

What kind of person sends a letter to the woman they love to tell her that it's over? Who does that?

Apparently, I do.

I don't know what possessed me to do that. I suppose I thought it'd be easier to write it all down than to hear her voice and decide to come crawling back. And if I'd been a smart person, I would've done just that—crawled back on my hands and knees and begged forgiveness.

I don't know if she would ever consider forgiving me at this point. I know my Abby; she can hold a grudge. Sure, she'll be really polite about it, but she never forgets anything. Not that she should forget how I've hurt her. Personally, I feel that I should be reminded of that on a daily basis.

Well, at least reminded of my transgressions by someone other than my subconscious.

I've tried writing her hundreds of times, but I just can't find the words. What do you say in a situation like this? I know of no precedent. Everything I say sounds so trite and innocuous. And somehow, I don't think a letter is the way to go this time. Something tells me that she wouldn't respond well to that. Besides, she deserves better than that.

I don't regret the work I've done in Africa. It's been so unbelievably fulfilling, I just can't describe it. I know I'm probably not even making a dent over here, but I feel like I've done something good, something that makes a difference.

What I do regret is how I went about it. Mad or not, hurting the person I'm closest to in the world doesn't excuse the kind of behavior I've exhibited.

I hate that it's so easy to hurt someone. Instead of sticking around and fighting it out and trying to make it work, we pushed each other away. I think I regret that more than anything. All those times over the past year or so that we needed each other and we just…let go. I think we've both been laboring under the notion that if you just push someone away, it'll hurt less than sticking it out.

I have never been so wrong in my life.

I don't know where Abby and I would be if I hadn't left her the way I did, and if I hadn't written that damn letter, but I know I'd feel better about this whole damned situation if we'd at least tried. I mean, if you give a relationship your best shot and it fails, at least you know you tried. You tried to make it work.

I don't know if we ever did try. I think we somehow just expected it to all fall into place, never really taking into account the amount of baggage we each carry. Granted, the year we were together wasn't as stellar as one would hope, so we definitely had a lot of obstacles to overcome, but that's the kind of stuff that should bring people together, not tear them apart.

I should have been there for her when Eric went downhill. She feels such a responsibility to him--how can I fault her for that? She was practically his mother; she made sure he got up and went to school and had food to eat. And I just expected her to be able to let that go? To let her mother take responsibility for it all without batting an eye?

I know she did her best with the cards she was dealt, and I know, in retrospect, that I blew his behavior at the funeral out of proportion. Don't get me wrong; I'm still angry about it, but more at the situation than at anyone in particular. She was caught between a rock and a hard place, and I did nothing to ease that tension.

At the end of the day, we're both to blame for what went wrong in our relationship. There's no way around it.

But I want to fix things. I want her to forgive me for leaving her when I promised that I never would. And that may have been the ultimate betrayal for her. She's never been able to count on anyone, and the person who swore he wouldn't let her down, did. It's no real surprise that she turns to drinking; it may not be healthy, but it's always there.

I don't know if she ever can really forgive me, but I've got to try. I want to know if, somehow, someday, there's a chance for us. I've got to fight for her. She has to know that I never stopped loving her, no matter what I may have implied. It wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't still love her, that much I know for certain.

As much as I love what I've done in Africa, it's not where I belong. It's time to go back to my reality and take care of the problems at home. I don't know what to expect when my plane lands at O'Hare a few hours from now, but I know I've got to try. I've got to go home.

To whatever home is for me these days.

* * *

Okay, so…I haven't written in almost two years. I haven't written a stand alone fic in almost four years, so forgive me if I'm a little rusty. This came to me out of nowhere as I was driving home from work tonight. It was most definitely inspired by Michael Buble's version of the song "Home." (and ps, you should listen to it while you're reading this, just to get an idea of what I was going for) It just popped into my head and I knew that I had to get it out or it would be haunting me all night. I'm hoping this will serve as a jumping off point for me, so maybe I can get Oh Very Young up and running again. I don't know if I've worked through my block yet or not though. Time will tell. So, let me know what you think. Any good? I know it's probably a little jumpy, but I've decided to not even reread this puppy before I post it—I think I'm afraid that if I do, I'll just scrap it entirely. So, any of you old school carbys out there, let me know what you think. 


End file.
